


Professors Potter and Malfoy

by Ladderofyears



Series: Fictober 2019 [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco gives Good Advice, Draco uses a line from Rocketman for some bizarre reason, Fictober is a long month, Harry is Working Hard, Hogwarts, M/M, Pre-Slash, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Supportive Draco Malfoy, Teaching Is Difficult Sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 13:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21055133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Harry is the new DADA Professor at Hogwarts but life as a teacher isn't nearly as easy as he'd imagined. Luckily, Potions Professor Draco Malfoy is on hand to give Harry some good advice.This story was written in honour of Brazilian Teachers Day (which I'm a day late for- sorry!) and to celebrate every single teacher that might choose to read this. You're all amazing and you do the most important job in the world.





	Professors Potter and Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PollyWeasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PollyWeasley/gifts), [TheTrueQueenOfHearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTrueQueenOfHearts/gifts), [Teef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teef/gifts).

> For PollyWeasley, Teef and TheTrueQueenofHearts. This story is for you both. Happy Brazilian Teachers Day!
> 
> This is my sixteenth Fictober story, and is based on the prompt: _You can't give more than yourself._

When Headteacher McGonagall had offered Harry the role of _Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor_, Harry hadn’t thought twice. He’d seized a quill from his overflowing Auror desk and dashed out a reply immediately, and taken it up to the Ministry Owlry himself. 

Harry had watched Ares, a small Barn Owl sweep across the horizon with a warm feeling of satisfaction. _Professor Potter_. That sounded pretty wonderful, and as he slowly made his way back down the stairs to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement his mind was filled with daydreams about how wonderful life would be when he finally returned home to Hogwarts. 

The students would be well-behaved, Harry was sure about that. He knew that he and his friends hadn’t always been the most attentive or biddable of children but in fairness Ron, Hermione and himself had been tasked with all that saving-the-world business. As Harry sipped his coffee, happily ignoring the memos floating over the his desk, he envisioned row after row of children smiling happily as they achieved their first Patronus. He imagined the wise advice he’d give when they cast a _Riddikulus_ and how the students would hang on his every word. 

As Harry _Accio’ed_ his coat he couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of self-satisfaction. No longer would he be spending his days running down the same few crafty wizards running potions cons or dodging hexes. 

He’d be a respected Professor, a figurehead in the magical community. Children would definitely brag about their wonderful new DADA teacher. By the end of the day Ron and Hermione were toasting his good fortune in the _Leaky_ and wishing him good luck, but privately Harry didn’t think he’d truly need it. He’d saved the world! Fought dragons and the most evil Dark Wizard of all time! 

Honestly, how difficult could teaching a few teenagers possibly be? 

~@~

Harry found out rather quickly that teaching a few teenagers wasn’t actually as easy as he’d initially imagined. 

A class full of teenagers, chock full of magic and hormones was a far more difficult beast to pin down than even the most monstrous of Dark Wizards. Certainly, they all seemed to love Harry’s anecdotes, but Harry realised after a few lessons of telling his Triwizard Tournament story that the students were asking him _on purpose_ so that they could while away a few hours.

The_ Riddikulus_ lesson was ridiculous. Half the children were too terrified to cast and began crying. The other half screamed and laughed as the boggart terrorised and chased them around the classroom. It had been utter chaos. Casting _Expecto Patronum_ was beyond most too: many students just didn’t have powerful enough memories. 

That was probably something to do with the peaceful era they lived within, but it didn’t make Harry feel like a better teacher. Quite honestly, being a Professor was a harder job than Harry had ever imagined. When he thought back to Lupin, to Lockhart or even bloody Snape, Harry realised he had never thought about what went _into_ their lessons. Ironically, Harry had sort of assumed they arrived by magic. They hadn’t though. Lessons took hard work and lots of planning. 

The worst part of life at Hogwarts was Draco Malfoy, however. 

_Professor_ Malfoy was the Lead Teacher of Potions, the Deputy Head and the resident shining star of the staffroom. He was also perfectly gorgeous and, most irritatingly, kind and supportive in a way that teenage Harry would never have believed remotely possible. 

Draco had a PhD in the Teaching of Magical Children and was Harry’s supervisor. Malfoy made teaching look effortless. The students respected him and stood in rapt silence before his lessons started. They always completed his homework and waited behind after his lessons to tell Draco anecdotes about their Potions practice. 

It was entirely baffling to Harry how Draco had achieved his beloved position within the school, when Harry was struggling to even get his broomstick off the ground. Harry wasn’t about to give up though. He’d made a commitment to Headteacher McGonagal and he wasn’t about to let her down. 

~@~

Harry yawned, and stretched his back. He cast a warming spell on the long-cold cup of coffee that sat before him and felt his belly grumble in protest. Dinner had been a while ago and he was terribly tempted to wander to the kitchen. Maybe he could score a piece of Pork Pie, or a slice of Quiche from the Elves- 

No, Harry chastised himself, shaking his head. He had to catch up with his marking. The big pile of homework in front of him was due back tomorrow and sadly there was no spell in existence that would mark it for him. Harry cast his eyes around the staffroom. All of the other Professor’s desks were empty and the room was entirely deserted. Harry closed his eyes, willing his whirling brain to quieten. It had been a busy, bustling day without any sort of real break to actually breathe. 

There’d been First Years in tears because they’d never been away from home before, and Eighth Years crying because of their mock-NEWT exams. There’d been an influx of Skiving Snackboxes making the rounds, as well as Peeves being his normal, repulsive unseeable self. Moaning Myrtle had flooded the loos- _twice_\- while a Blast-Ended Skrewt had somehow found their way into the Dining Hall. All in all, a typical day in Hogwarts, Harry supposed. He was exhausted, and bone-tired in a way he’d never been as an Auror. 

Maybe he just needed five minutes asleep. 

Five minutes wasn’t much, Harry thought, setting a Tempus Charm to ring beside his ear. Five minutes and he’d be a right as a Hippogriff on a sunny day. He cast a cushioning spell, and buried his head in the piles of parchment that littered his desk. Five minutes was all Harry needed…

~@~

“Harry!” came a hiss from beside him. “_Merlin_, whatever are you doing? it’s nearly bloody midnight! I thought you’d been bloody cursed when I saw you splayed out on your desk. Whatever do you think you’re playing at?”

Harry swore inwardly. Typical bloody _Malfoy_, skulking about the school in the middle of the night. For a half a second, Harry was suspicious, wondering precisely what Draco’s motives were in sneaking up on him, but then he took in the soft cloud-grey of the man’s eyes and the mellow set of Draco’s features. Harry realised with surprise that Malfoy was genuinely worried.

“Your Elf came to find me,” Draco said. With a flick of his wand, a chair slid over to where he stood, and Draco say down. He was as stately and authoritative in his dressing gown as he was in his robes, and Harry felt crumpled and messy in front of him. “Lucy was worried. She told me that you’ve been coming in later and later. Midnight. _One o’clock_. Is that true?”

“I did set a Tempus Charm,” Harry replied, a little petulantly. “But I was half asleep when I did it. It can’t have taken properly. I'm just trying to finish my work. Get on top of things-”

“What you’re doing isn’t called working. All you’re doing is guaranteeing yourself a bad day tomorrow” Draco looked at the pile of scruffily-inked parchments, and waved a hand in the direction of Harry’s mug. “A day where you’ll be off with the students, struggle to focus and spend the day desperately drinking that _bile_ you call coffee. You’re only one wizard Harry, and this is a tough job.”

Harry scoffed. “Easy for you to say, Malfoy. You seem to float through your days without much strife. Lessons _planned_, parchments _marked_. The kids all respect you and actually listen when you speak. I however, seem to spend everyday diving from one disaster into the next! Headteacher McGonagal must rue the day she sent me the owl-”

“Always so practically _perfect_ Potter,” Draco interrupted. “It’s very arrogant to say that I float though my days! I’ve worked here five years, Harry. Five _years_. And yes, that’s exactly how long it’s taken me to get established, and really understand how to teach. McGonagal doesn’t rue anything. You’re going to be a great teacher eventually but you’ve got to give it a chance. You can’t work every hour Salazar sends. You can’t give more than yourself, Harry.”

Harry ran his hands though his hair. Draco, the kind, intelligent arse that he was, spoke a lot of sense. The Potions Professor stood, and walked to his own desk. 

_“Firewhisky,”_ Draco announced, pulling out a small bottle. “The perfect antidote after a tough day.”

Harry nodded his assent and Draco charmed the bland-looking potion bottle into a half-bottle of Ogden’s Finest. He retrieved two glasses from the depths of his desk before pouring them both a generous measure. Draco returned to his seat and placed one of the smoking glasses in Harry’s hand. 

“You came to Hogwarts straight after University then?” asked Harry, the Firewhisky working its enchantment. Harry hadn’t dared engage Draco in conversation about their thorny, difficult past before, and the pair of them had existed in a strangely sterile détente until now. 

“I did,” Draco said, slowly rolling the amber liquid around the glass. “I’m not sure if you knew, but Snape was my Godfather. A difficult man in many ways but a _genius_ potioneer. Honestly, he had me brewing simple potions before I could read… Claimed it was the mark of a true wizarding mind. You must remember what he used to say-”

_“No foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class,”_ Harry quoted, his voice a passable impression of Snape. “We heard it often enough.”

“Exactly!” Draco smiled, his face softening in memory. “I’d had the same message cursed into me since the age of bloody six. It must have taken effect because all I ever really wanted was to follow in Severus’s footsteps. I’d like to have learnt from him, been his apprentice but of course that wasn’t to be. Still, I like to hope he would have been proud of me.”

“That isn’t the Draco I remember from school,” Harry replied, the whiskey making him daring. “That pointy git didn’t care too much about impressing anybody. Far as I remember it was all cheating at Quidditch and showing-off to the girls.”

Draco really laughed at Harry’s words. “I was such a little shit, Potter. I’m paying for it now, though, with every arsehole parent and every lackadaisical student.” Draco paused, and poured out another inch of alcohol. “That person, that _Draco_ that you knew at school? He didn’t really exist, Harry. He was an invention that I made up for my Father. Confident, cocky… Always with a bloody_ girlfriend_. I made myself into the son Lucius wanted. And it worked well enough, I suppose. I nearly believed the act myself.”

Harry was quiet. He stared at the dying embers in the fireplace, remembering their schooldays around these same corridors and halls. He remembered the difficult, abrasive individual Draco had once been. That he was even the same person as the man sat beside him seemed unbelievable. 

“I suppose that’s the rub of it,” Harry said after a moment. “I was always so lonely as a child, but I don’t suppose I really understood that I was _free_. Free to be whomever I wanted. That’s the flip side of being an orphan. Nobody to let down. The War changed so much for all of us… I’m sorry about your Father, Draco. I read about him dying in Azkaban.”

Draco shook his head sadly. “Don’t be sorry. I loved Lucius, worshipped him really. But I had to kill the man that Lucius wanted me to be. Become the bookish, scholarly and resolutely gay individual sat before you. We’ve both paid too high a price for our freedom, Harry.”

~@~

The pair of them sat silently, holding their whisky glasses in light fingers. The fire had died, and the midnight cold had started to chill Harry’s skin. 

Harry wanted to reply, wanted to tell Draco how much his words had meant. He wanted to say how inspirational Draco was, both as a man and as a fellow professional but he was drowsy, yawning and barely thinking. The blessed delight of a warming spell wrapped around his body and Harry smiled lazily. Draco’s magic was oddly familiar, a reminder of when they were both children. 

“It’s bedtime,” Draco said in an idle voice. “I don’t want to find you down here again after eight o’clock. Unless you’re on Duty the time after dinner belongs only to you. Teaching's a difficult job Harry. You’re performing all day long and you can’t be anything less than your best. You do need your rest.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, stifling a yawn. “I’ll try to look after myself a little better.”

“See that you do,” Draco replied, his face quirking into a strange half-smile as he looked down at Harry. “We’re on Hogsmeade Duty this Saturday together, so I need you in tip-top condition. And Harry? If you fancy it, we could share a Butterbeer in the _Three Broomsticks? _While away a couple of hours while the students are shopping? Carry on our conversation with you a touch more awake. You could tell me about your adventures with the Aurors.”

Harry nodded his assent. “I’d love to,” he said as he stood. “I’ll regale you with my boring tales.”

The pair of them slowly made the way to the Teacher’s rooms, the light from their wands casting a flickering Lumos that bounced along the walls. With each step, Professor Potter felt his anxieties start to lift. He didn’t have to to be the most esteemed teacher that had ever walked the corridors of Hogwarts in his very first few weeks. He needed to establish himself, get used to the rhythms of the school and enjoy his work. Draco was right. 

The students didn’t need an exhausted, frustrated teacher. They needed a teacher that cared about them. _Draco bloody Malfoy_. The teenaged Harry wouldn’t ever have believed that Draco would be the purveyor of such positive advice. But then, teenage-Harry couldn’t ever have imagined them sharing a beer at the Three Broomsticks either. 

Harry grinned as he spelled open his rooms and dropped down onto his bed. 

Hogwarts, it seemed, was finally welcoming him home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxx


End file.
